Yankee Swap
by jazwriter
Summary: This is a story I wrote for associatedbears for the 2010 Secret Santa. It was posted on LiveJournal back then. The prompt: erotic, smutty, Xmas Mirandy. Writer's choice. I hope you enjoy it.
1. Chapter 1

**Yankee Swap**

**DWP Secret Santa 2010 for associatedbears**

**Author**: JAZWriter/JAZWriter13

**Pairing**: Miranda/Andrea, The Devil Wears Prada

**Rating**: NC-17 eventually

**Special Thanks** to my betas who did a stellar job, peetsden, quiethearted, law_nerd, and shesgottaread. You caught tons of mistakes, smoothed out the rough areas, and made me think twice about the way I crafted the story. Thank you!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Devil Wears Prada, its characters, or any New York restaurants. I am not profiting from this story (except through positive comments which feed my Muse). It is created through the fair use doctrine or some such pish-posh.

**Prompt**: erotic, smutty, Xmas Mirandy. Writer's choice.

**A/N**: This is a bit AU in that Andy did not leave Miranda in Paris, although she came close.

This story consists of five parts and an Epilogue. All parts are posted and linked. When I first wrote this it was much fluffier. In fact I had kind of ripped myself off from another story, so I rewrote it and added a little more Miranda-ness to it. I hope you enjoy. Happy holidays!

* * *

**Part 1**

Every year the board of Elias-Clarke attempted to instill a sense of friendliness and unity by encouraging everyone on staff to attend their holiday party. Employees for all their magazines, including their flagship _Runway_, were encouraged to attend, as were their leaders. Normally, Miranda would make an appearance and leave rather quickly on the pretext of needing to get back to her family. This year, however, with Irv's obvious malevolence, Miranda's imminent divorce, and her children's visit with their father over the weekend, she found she would just have to resign herself to mingling with the plebeians.

Miranda viewed attending this event as akin to volunteering at a soup kitchen or donating the past season's couture to those who normally wore Wal-mart's finest—she hoped fervently that she would not have to talk to people, just smile and nod while they attempted to ingratiate themselves into her world.

As another forgettable person waylaid her to wish her happy holidays, Miranda pasted on a fake smile and stifled her frustration. Oh, well, a few hours making nice could only strengthen her reputation and reinforce her hold over _Runway_. In addition, this would provide her with an opportunity to observe her second assistant outside the office.

Andrea Sachs, with her bright eyes and vivacious disposition, came to work each day with a smile on her face and a spring in her step. Miranda had found it as increasingly annoying as it was uplifting. Since Paris, though, Andrea seemed to smile a little less brightly and laugh a little less often when Miranda was around. She seemed skittish and introspective. Cautious and tense. It gave Miranda pause.

Appearing to be a lost cause in the beginning, Andrea had demonstrated a stubborn streak a mile long, accompanied by a determination to succeed. That spark, that unwillingness to accept failure quietly, had prompted Miranda to hire her in the first place. Over the months, Miranda had watched her mature in many compelling ways, fascinated despite her wish to remain unaffected by the brunette. If only she could determine what was causing Andrea to act differently around her. Miranda knew she shouldn't care—Andrea was merely her second assistant—but her heart did not listen to logic. She cared.

Although loathe to admit it, Miranda took comfort in hearing Andrea chatter incessantly to Emily outside her office each day. After Paris, Emily had been aloof toward Andrea, but eventually she had thawed under the onslaught of so much warmth. During those one-sided conversations, Andrea had revealed trouble in her love life. Evidently, her boyfriend had left her. _Join the party._

Miranda was in the middle of an acrimonious divorce, despite many wasted nights spent pleading with him to remain by her side. She had tried to salvage the marriage—she had. Yet, no matter what she did, it was never enough. Stephen refused to make allowances, drowning his sorrow in alcohol night after night, complaining about her work, her girls, her house (O_ur house_, she reminded herself. After all, hadn't she redecorated to suit his tastes?), and, of course, their lack of intimacy. Honestly, how could he have whined incessantly about her in such ways and then have expected her to desire his touch? As it was, she worked hard well into the evenings and returned home exhausted.

He used to understand. He used to admire her dedication to her career. Not anymore, though, and eventually she had become too tired of trying to convince him that she was the same person he had married three years ago. She had stopped defending herself, and the bastard had served her with divorce papers during Paris Fashion Week three months ago.

Turning on her bar stool, Miranda acknowledged Nigel's snide remarks with a slight curling of her lips. He pretended to hate these festivities, but Miranda knew he enjoyed watching the peons drink themselves into moronic stupors and pair up with inappropriate partners under the mistletoe. Miranda chose to sit at the bar and intersperse caustic observations within pregnant pauses. Since circumstances had forced her to nix Nigel's opportunity to work with James Holt, she had taken great pains to make it up to him. Miranda was confident that he had noticed and understood. After commenting on an _Auto Universe_ meathead's ridiculous attempt to capture a pretty if vapid _Runway_ makeup tech, Miranda noted with interest Andrea's entrance into the event room. She must have arrived earlier since she bore no Secret Santa offering.

Another ridiculous requirement for this little shindig. Each person was required to bring a wrapped, unmarked gift for a Yankee Swap. People could spend at most one hundred dollars for the gift, although free items could be used. That made it much easier for _Runway_ employees since they constantly received free samples of the newest clothes and accessories.

"Are you planning on staying for the Yankee Swap?" Nigel drawled. Miranda raised an eyebrow while shooting him an "obviously you have either drunk too much or not enough" look. "Right. Of course." Miranda turned back to her perusal of her second assistant, not deigning to dignify his absurd question with any more of her time.

Tonight Andrea wore a black pantsuit ensemble and a shimmering gold blouse. She looked delectable. Miranda savored her Macallan Scotch while wondering whether Andrea had a new boyfriend. Miranda grimaced.

"Good evening, Miranda, Nigel. How are you?" Andrea's melodic voice caressed Miranda's ears as she approached the bar.

"Six! If it isn't the sunshine queen herself. What, no boy-toy tonight?" Nigel greeted her as she caught the bartender's attention.

Miranda watched as she batted her eyes while ordering a glass of wine. She became amused by how easily Andrea wrapped the infatuated bartender around her pinkie. She'd never actually seen Andrea in action before, never seen how charming she could be. Miranda knew well how to use her feminine wiles to smooth the way, and she bit back a smile while watching Andrea add a touch of genuine sweetness to the interaction. Miranda found it compelling.

"Oh, no. I'm taking a break from all that," Andrea answered, sadness lacing her words.

_What a schmuck her ex-boyfriend is_, Miranda thought disparagingly. _That boy should have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with Andrea instead of uprooting to Boston, leaving her alone to the tender mercies of those who would love the chance to sweep her away. He obviously has no idea what he gave up._

Evidently, he had lost his desire for her as she became more dedicated to her job. It was clear to Miranda that Andrea was just beginning to come into her own. The younger woman would undoubtedly blaze a path on her way to the top. Yet, as with any profession, one had to start from the bottom, working long hours and developing a healthy work ethic. Soon Andrea's year would be up, and she would move on to a job more worthy of her talents. Miranda liked to think she'd had a hand in Andrea's success. It's why she'd pushed her so hard.

"Hm. If you don't watch out you'll soon sound like the rest of us poor, single chumps," Nigel commented before sipping more of his Manhattan.

"Oh, well, it's fine. I'd rather not be with someone who wants to be able to place me in a neat, little box. That relationship was destined to fail." Andrea shrugged her shoulders as she leaned against the bar, wine in hand. "As they say, the writing was on the wall. It was all over but for the crying." Nigel hummed in sympathy. "Anyway, we just drifted apart."

Miranda chose to say nothing even though she knew Andrea was minimizing the reason for her failed relationship. She was undeniably concerned for the younger woman, but what could she say, after all? I understand? I'm experiencing the same challenges finding someone who understands me, supports me, loves me for who I am? Let me braid your hair while I whisper how foolish he was to let you go? Miranda took another sip of her Scotch.

"Miranda, how are you this evening?" Andrea asked.

"Fine," Miranda answered because they weren't at work, and she could be pleasant when it served her purposes. She looked around the room, pointedly not focusing on Andrea. She could already feel the younger woman's presence quite forcefully. There was no need to gaze at her.

"That's, that's good. I'm glad," Andrea said brightly. Miranda could have sworn she heard Nigel snort, but no, that couldn't be accurate.

"The Secret Santa Yankee Swap will be starting soon. Everyone needs to pick a number out of this Santa hat. Just one. Come on, everyone," Irv's smarmy voice grated on Miranda's last nerve. Rolling her eyes as she watched Andrea pick a number, Miranda conceded that she was not yet ready to leave. She would admit to no one that she always had intended to remain if Andrea was in attendance. Miranda finished her drink and signaled the barkeep for another round.

"I'll settle my tab now." Miranda instructed him, "Add another round of their drinks, too," as she waved in Nigel and Andrea's direction. She smiled slightly at their thanks. Andrea sounded shocked. As she should be. It must be the holiday cheer seeping into Miranda's bones. She just suddenly felt benevolent.

Sliding gracefully off her stool, Miranda sashayed over to the odious CEO of Elias-Clarke to pick a number from the cheap Kmart Santa hat. One hundred and fifty-two. She'd be here all night. Perhaps she had been too hasty closing her bar tab.

Soon all the participants gathered near a long table strewn with wrapped gifts of all shapes and sizes. Miranda just barely kept herself from sighing. Instead, she pressed her lips together.

"All right, then. In case you have never participated in a Yankee Swap before, the rules are fairly simple," Irv began with his pompous voice. "Does everyone have a number?" He looked around to make sure before continuing. "Great. The person who has the number one will begin. That person will come up to the table and choose a present to unwrap. Then number two will have the choice of either taking number one's present or taking a gift from the table. Number two cannot take number one's gift after opening a gift from the table, so if number two chooses a gift from the table and doesn't like it as much as what number one received, that's too bad. If a person takes another person's gift, the person without a gift can choose another gift from the table. Number three will be able to take the gift that number one or two received or can choose from the table. And so on. Once everyone has chosen a gift, number one can choose from any of the opened gifts. So being number one is the best. No surprise there." Irv preened under the chuckles. "A couple of other rules: you have to keep your gift out where others can see it, and you have to open a gift when your number is called. So, who's number one?"

"I am," Andrea said as she rose from her chair.

"Ah, this way then," Irv urged. Andrea stepped in front of the table and studied the various offerings. Finally, she picked up a box wrapped in silver paper.

"Wow! This is heavy," she exclaimed in surprise. Quickly she opened the gift and smiled. Miranda could see that it was a bottle of Macallan Scotch. It looked like a 21-year vintage. _Not bad._ Andrea showed everyone the bottle before sitting down.

"You won't have that for long," Nigel said loudly.

The next person opened a spa basket with a gift certificate for a spa treatment. The third participant took Andrea's liquor. With a resigned grin, she opened a gift to find a roll of toilet paper covered with Christmas jokes. Everyone howled with glee. Even Miranda found herself fighting off a smile. For the next several rounds Miranda watched as Andrea gamely tried to convince people to take her toilet paper roll, claiming that laughter was important in a person's life, even in the bathroom. She got no takers, but that bottle of liquor became a hot commodity.

Some of the gifts weren't bad—some showed ingenuity, humor, or thoughtfulness. A junior editor unwrapped scented candles with a silver candleholder while an accountant found himself stuck with a chipped porcelain vase, the off-center picture of Odysseus holding his famed bow causing much mirth. Nigel took the Scotch from Irv, who opened up a box to find a yellow polka-dotted tie on a horrendous orange background. Miranda did smile at that.

Emily's gift revealed two tickets to the Rockettes' Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall. She seemed pleased. Miranda idly wondered whether Andrea would enjoy such a show. Hearing a gasp, Miranda refocused on the presents. Serena had just opened hers. She stood looking down at something framed.

"What is it?" someone asked.

Serena replied, "It looks like it's a first issue of _Runway _from May 1986 and two pencil drawings of Miranda, one when she was younger and the other as she looks now. I'm willing to bet this is the first issue Miranda produced once she became the editor-in-chief."

Serena tilted the frame so people could see the drawings. Miranda sucked in a breath. They were startling. Wonderful. Surprising. Miranda, well-versed with the emotions an artist could instill in a drawing, could see affection and warmth through every line. The first picture showed her with shoulder-length blonde hair. Her smile was unforced, crow's feet practically nonexistent, and her demeanor not quite so fierce. She looked happy and strong. The second picture showed her as she looked presently, but again the artist had somehow created a sense of strength and ease in the facial expression. The picture expressed her feelings while gazing at her girls—relaxed and vibrant. Her smile was smaller in this picture, tempered by years of denying herself the pleasures of lighthearted banter and camaraderie with others, yet her eyes seemed to sparkle with some joke. _Someone sees me this way?_

"That magazine must be worth a mint by now. It's in perfect condition," someone said. People discussed the gift for several minutes before Irv brought attention back to the Swap, pointing out that they had fifty-six more gifts to go.

Prada shoes, stuffed animals, a Starbucks travel mug and gift card, designer sweaters, Christmas CDs with iTunes gift cards, lottery tickets with a tin of Godiva's hot chocolate and a bottle of Kahlua, and all the typical gifts one would find at such an event were opened fairly quickly. Once in a while a joke gift would appear, inciting much laughter and commiseration for the recipient. Miranda noticed someone from accessories opened the gift Miranda had contributed. She had brought a Donna Karan print blouse with a matching cerulean blue scarf. The colors matched beautifully. Miranda couldn't help thinking that Andrea would look particularly fetching in them.

Finally it was Miranda's turn. Walking up to the table, she noted she was the last person to choose. Picking up the gift, she opened it. Her eyes widened. She had received Anna Wintour's unauthorized biography and a pair of Chanel sunglasses. Miranda glared as people noticed the gift and began laughing. Miranda could not see the humor. At all.

Holding them delicately by the very edges, Miranda found Jocelyn and offered them. The younger woman took them with a sigh and handed over the framed treasure she had taken from Irv's personal assistant. Looking at the drawings of herself closely, Miranda once again was dazzled. They were simply stunning. Smiling with satisfaction, Miranda returned to her seat as people lightly teased Jocelyn.

"Ok, then, Andy, you get to choose from any of the gifts opened." Everyone held their breath as Andy got up and began walking past each person slowly, overtly eyeing all the loot. When she arrived in front of Miranda, the editor shot her a warning glare. She would Not. Be. Happy. if Andrea chose to take this item from her. Miranda swept her gaze at the assembled employees as, fortified by booze and that damned unity Irv was so focused on building, they urged Andrea to take Miranda's present. Andrea smiled as Miranda's glare intensified. Instead of signing her death sentence, however, Andrea winked and turned away. Blinking in surprise, Miranda watched as Andrea crossed to the girl who had opened the gift she had contributed and held out the toilet paper. Several people tittered. Andrea took the scarf and blouse reverently with a large, toothy grin. "Thank you!" Andy crowed.

"Let's all give each other a round of applause for being such good sports. Happy holidays, everyone," Irv said as people clapped appreciatively. Nigel leaned over to look at Miranda's present.

"I wonder who drew those. They are extremely flattering to you, Miranda. I don't recognize the artist's style, though. Do you?" Nigel continued to stare at them, as did Miranda.

"I do not, but you are correct. They are beautifully drawn," she agreed softly. She didn't know who had created the drawings, but she hoped to find out. She would find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Sitting in her empty apartment a week after the party, Andy tried to figure out just when her life had gone to hell in a handbasket. When she had come to New York, she had believed she could do anything. It hadn't deterred her when she had become the second assistant to a demon in heels—it was just a step in the right direction. Yet as time had passed and Andy had metamorphosed into a more fashion-conscious, driven professional, Andy's view of her life had changed. It wasn't that she had become cynical or jaded. She was still the same old Andy. However, she was no longer quite as gullible, no longer as rosy-eyed or optimistic as she had been eleven months ago. And she no longer had time to foster relationships with people who were unwilling to grow with her.

Nonetheless, although she had a better understanding of how cutthroat the fashion industry could be, Andy had not been ready to accept the way Miranda had treated Nigel. Nigel's resigned expression and ready acceptance of Miranda's maneuvering had chafed Andy's sense of integrity. She knew her belief system was still evolving, that her idea of ethical behavior was still too simplistic and innocent, but her boss's actions had hurt a loyal employee, someone who had deserved better. Miranda's explanation in the car, if it could be called that, had upset Andy greatly. And Miranda's highest compliment, that she saw some of herself in Andy, had sent Andy running. Literally.

Out of the car, across the street, and away from her job, Andy had run as if her very life had depended on it. She had wanted to quit in a fit of righteousness, leaving the real world behind as she recovered her rose-tinted glasses and jammed them back on her nose where they belonged. It hadn't worked, though. The glasses no longer fit right. In fact, the longer she thought about what had happened, the more she understood Miranda's position. Obviously, Nigel understood. He had remained by Miranda's side. So, Andy had returned to her job within the hour, fabricating some pitiful excuse which Miranda had accepted.

Nothing was the same, though. Andy felt changed. Not so innocent. Seasoned.

Over the last four months, Andy had fallen into a great rhythm with Miranda. She had gotten to a point where she had been able to anticipate Miranda's needs, and often, to Miranda's surprise and Andy's pleasure, she had provided aid in ways Miranda hadn't requested but nonetheless needed. Andy had really begun to love those instances. It had become a game for her, a very important game, where she had tried to make Miranda's day a bit better, a bit more manageable, a bit happier.

The week before they had left for Paris, Miranda had even smiled at her when she had received word of how Andy had arranged for her two daughters to receive the newest iPods loaded with their favorite songs. Not that it was their birthday or anything. Andy had learned, though, that during the times when Miranda must be away from home for the fashion show circuit, she liked to give her children something special so they would know she was thinking of them. So, they received a present before and after each business trip.

Andy had just arranged for them to receive some attractive Marc Jacobs ruffled heart dresses before her fateful night of indiscretion with Christian Thompson and subsequent running around Paris to warn Miranda of a coup she had already squashed. Upon their return to _Runway_, Miranda had mentioned with a small smile how much her daughters had liked the dresses. Andy, troubled by the events in Paris and blaming Miranda for forcing a life lesson upon her that she did not want to accept, could not offer a smile in return.

That was a change Andy had trouble understanding. Miranda smiled at her more often, watched her, and sometimes when Andy felt lonely or disenchanted she could swear Miranda seemed concerned about her. Of course, that couldn't be true. Miranda didn't care about second assistants. Andy's welfare certainly had no bearing on her boss. Miranda didn't care about anyone or anything unless it served her purpose.

Well, that wasn't really true. Miranda had begun spending quite a bit of time with Nigel since Paris. Nigel had mentioned in passing that Miranda was looking for another vehicle for his advancement. At Andy's obvious surprise Nigel had said quietly, "I told you she would pay me back," which had left Andy with quite a bit to think about. Miranda could be labeled an enigma, a puzzle, a conundrum. One, Andy realized, she wanted to figure out. And that scared the hell out of her—ironic considering how her life had gone to hell.

With a sigh, Andy slumped on her couch. Nate was gone. Doug and Lily were chillingly polite and distant. Emily had thawed, but Andy missed her old friendships, that easiness borne of familiarity and total acceptance. Looking around the living room, Andy decided to go to bed early. She was depressed. She yearned for something more.

Maybe it was because she wasn't really following her dream of writing. Nigel had urged Andy to write some freelance articles, going so far as to float them to other publications on her behalf. Her first one had been accepted with an invitation for her to submit more. It was a start, but she could only do so much while running around the city at all hours for Miranda.

Andy fingered the cerulean scarf she had won at the holiday party. Andy loved the scarf and the blouse that came with it. Just looking at it, touching the soft fabric, lifted Andy's spirits. They were beautiful. And Miranda had nodded at her when Andy had worn them to work the day after the party.

Andy smiled as she thought about the gift she had brought. Even as she had chastised herself for such ridiculous thoughts, she had hoped Miranda would want it. And she had. The first edition copy of the _Runway_ May 1986 magazine had taken some time to find in the little dark room known as the archives and even more time to convince one of the lackeys in charge of keeping such editions to release one to Andy. Eventually, she had determined what would do it: two tickets to see the Lion King. The lackey's wife had wanted to see the musical for quite a while, and it took all of five minutes to make the arrangements once she had dropped Miranda's name into the mix. Andy didn't feel guilty. It was for a good cause—making a gift Miranda would cherish.

Since the party, Andy had heard rumblings that Miranda was trying to determine who had drawn the pictures. Rumor had it she wanted to have the artist draw her children. Andy didn't buy the flimsy excuse for a moment. She had no intention of telling anyone she was the artist. No way. Of course, she had initialed the pieces, but Miranda would have to take the drawings out of the frame to discover them since they were underneath the matting surrounding the pictures. Andy had pulled strings to get everything matted and framed professionally. In addition, she had taken care to minimize the number of people involved with the gift and had sworn them all to secrecy.

Those drawings—they were the product of more hours than she cared to admit staring at her alluring boss. Andy knew most thought of Miranda as the Dragon Lady, an unfeeling, ruthless career woman willing to step on anyone who got in her way without a care. Andy saw that, but she saw more, too. She saw a woman who loved her children and overcompensated for her absences, a woman who pleaded with her soon-to-be ex-husband to not give up on their marriage, a woman who fought tooth and nail to keep her job at the expense of a close friend and devoted employee, a woman who took action to atone for the extreme measures she had taken against that friend and employee, a woman who fought tears after receiving divorce papers, and a woman who treated Andy as something more than a mindless drone.

She saw all these things and could not help but admire Miranda's strength and determination, her vulnerability and remorse. To Andy, Miranda seemed very unhappy. In this industry, she couldn't really trust anyone. However, Andy desperately wanted Miranda to trust her. These feelings of admiration, respect, and compassion—Andy accepted her feelings and wished others would take the time to understand Miranda. Anyone who really looked at her could not help but feel these emotions. Once she had suspended judgment on the events that had occurred in Paris, Andy could see why Nigel remained by Miranda's side.

These other feelings, though, her compulsion to do whatever she could to make Miranda smile, to cause her to blink in surprise, or to tilt her head in contemplation, these feelings unsettled Andy. They weren't right. She shouldn't feel this way about her boss. She shouldn't care so much that she spent her free time wondering what Miranda was doing, how she was feeling, whether she was happy. She shouldn't be drawing her eyes, her hands, the tilt of her head, or the shape of her mouth. Andy was at war with her heart.

The way Miranda gazed at her lately didn't help—Andy felt uncomfortable while in her presence, fearing the editor had guessed her feelings. If Miranda discovered how drawn Andy felt to her boss, she was sure Miranda would not react positively. Andy shuddered at the thought of her reaction.

The drawings, then, came as a result of all those repressed emotions. Andy had created the contemporary picture first, by memory. She had witnessed Miranda talking to her daughters one evening when dropping off the Book. Right before Miranda had realized Andy was in the hallway, she had stood at the entrance to the sitting room while her daughters stood in the hallway with their backs to Andy. The girls had interrupted each other while telling a story—something about a girl at school who had fallen out of her chair while asleep—and Miranda's face had lit up as she had chuckled. It had been quite the transformation, and it had struck Andy forcefully. She never had forgotten that look.

The other drawing, the one of Miranda from twenty years ago, Andy had created after absorbing several photos of her boss that she had found while searching for pictures online. A blonde back then, Miranda seemed to be more relaxed, more carefree, but just as powerful and vigorous. Andy knew Miranda had changed over the years, yet she saw some of the same characteristics so prominent in those earlier pictures shining through every so often. Andy couldn't help thinking that with some nurturing, Miranda might become happy again. She might smile more. She might relax. She might trust others—at least outside of work.

Oh, Andy didn't know what she was thinking. _Why do I care? Do I really think I can help Miranda? That Miranda will accept my help? How can I be so arrogant?_

Why _did_ she care?

It was these questions that plagued Andy constantly. She found herself thinking of ways to connect with Miranda, and she needed to stop. Maybe she should start dating again. Andy shook her head. She just couldn't picture throwing herself back into that scene. She didn't want to do the dance of getting to know someone new right now. She'd rather just work, write, and sleep.

Sleep. Andy was going to sleep. She was done with this day. Done with these thoughts. She was obsessing over her off-limits boss. Creating scenarios where she could make the serious woman laugh, cause the unhappy woman to smile, elicit a nod or an appraising stare through her words and actions.

She had to stop.

Placing the scarf gently on the coffee table next to her sketch book, Andy got up. Looking at the clock hanging on the far wall, she read the time—eight PM. Since tomorrow was Christmas Eve and no functions were scheduled, Andy was enjoying a work-free night. No Book to deliver, no dry cleaning. Andy was nearly at loose ends. Tomorrow would most likely be just as quiet, then two entire days off. Andy couldn't remember the last time she had had the entire weekend to do with as she pleased.

She had chosen to not return to Ohio to spend Christmas with her parents, much to their disappointment. It wasn't that she wanted to spend Christmas alone; if Doug and Lily hadn't decided to spend the holiday with their families, she would have been spending it with them. However, she just felt the need to stay in the city instead of reverting back to her childhood home with all the conventions of what she viewed as her former life.

Pulling on some flannel pajamas, Andy finished her ablutions and slipped into bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, piercing sapphire eyes formed in her mind's eye. Andy sighed mightily. Every night this happened. She just couldn't shake the woman. She had thought that drawing her boss would somehow exorcise the devil, but it hadn't. And now that devil was demanding Andy find the artist of the drawings. Andy flopped on her side. Like she would reveal she was the artist.

Every day for the past week, Miranda had called Andy into her office and said imperiously, "Well?"

What could Andy do? So, she'd shaken her head and tried not to flinch at Miranda's disapproving glare. She was actually a bit surprised that she hadn't received a good verbal thrashing, yet. Andy knew her luck would run out soon, though. She had hoped Miranda would just let it go, but evidently living on hope was not working out too well. Perhaps if she could get through tomorrow, Miranda would move on during the holiday. That would be a fine Christmas gift as far as Andy was concerned.

* * *

Hurrying into _Runway_, Andy deposited Miranda's coffee on her desk before taking off her coat. Unwrapping her wool cable, candy cane-striped scarf and ruffling her hair back into place once she removed her matching red wool beanie, Andy strode to the closet to deposit her winter gear. Crossing to the receptionist's desk, Andy retrieved all the current periodicals to spread on Miranda's desk. Looking around, Andy determined that the place was ready for Hurricane Miranda and returned to her desk to boot up her computer. Hearing a noise, Andy watched as Emily arrived and prepared for the day.

"Are you all ready for Christmas?" Andy asked as she reviewed the day's schedule.

"Yes. You?" Emily said, as abrupt as always.

"Sure. I'm looking forward to two entire days to myself." Andy typed a quick confirmation for Miranda's early afternoon lunch meeting.

"By yourself?" Emily sniffed. "Not traveling to back-water Ohio for the holiday?" Emily said in a bored voice.

"Nope. Just me, myself , and I. How about you?" Andy answered as she checked the rest of her e-mail messages. This was one of their longest conversations—perhaps that was Emily's gift to her, being relatively civil. Even better, maybe Miranda would deliver the fabulous gift of not asking whether she'd discovered the name of the drawings' artist. A girl could dream. _Just get me through the day._

"I am spending it with a friend," Emily admitted. Andy noted with interest a blush crawl up the redhead's neck.

_Interesting._ "Anyone I know?" Andy asked.

Emily just sniffed and kept typing. Andy was about to drop the subject when Serena breezed in to drop off a document. "Don't forget the wine, Emily," Serena said as she left. Andy watched the blush darken. Emily glanced nervously at Andy, who smiled brightly. Emily kept typing.

Andy realized two hours into the workday just how absurd her dream for Miranda to drop the subject of the drawings was. "Andrea."

Quickly Andy made her way into the dragon's lair and stood in front of the glass-top desk, pen and paper in hand. "Yes, Miranda?"

"Why haven't you given me the name of the artist or at the very least the person who brought the gift?" Miranda began.

_Shit_. Andy's heart dropped. "Well, I guess the artist wants to remain anonymous," Andy tried.

"Andrea. Someone in Elias-Clarke brought that gift. That someone is either the artist or knows the artist. I simply do not understand why it is so hard for you to secure a name." Miranda's voice became deadlier as she spoke each word precisely.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. I don't have a name to give you," Andy replied while looking over Miranda's shoulder. She wouldn't tell her. She didn't want Miranda to realize that it was her. She didn't want to see the derision, the realization that Andy cared for her, harbored feelings for her—the horror of being mocked for feelings that had somehow grown despite her efforts to fight them—it would be too much.

"This is absurd," Miranda huffed. "You have until three today. I want a name. That's all." Andy watched, shocked, as Miranda turned her chair toward the bank of windows.

Now what was she supposed to do? She didn't want to give Miranda her name, but Miranda had played the Harry Potter card. Andy wondered why it mattered to Miranda so much. _Dammit!_ Miranda hadn't acted this way toward Andy in so long, she had nearly forgotten what it felt like. How could she have forgotten the burning glare or the cold, low voice—the one that caused ice to steal through Andy's veins and frostbite to form on her extremities? _She wouldn't really fire me, would she?_

Andy worked through the day in a semi-daze. At one point while Emily and Miranda were out of the office, Andy removed her sketchpad from her tote and stared at the drawings. Would it be so terrible to reveal the truth? Miranda would be shocked, but then she would drop it. Even if she ridiculed Andy, at least that would be the end of it, right? Andy shook her head in despair. She couldn't do it. She didn't want to see Miranda's reaction. It would break her heart. Hearing a noise behind her, Andy threw the pad into her desk drawer and looked up as Nigel appeared.

"Why looking so glum?" Nigel asked as he picked up the day's schedule. "Holiday blues?"

"No. It's nothing." Andy shrugged. "How are you? Do you celebrate Christmas?"

"Kind of hard not to. Nothing too elaborate. I'm spending it with family. You? Going back to Hickville to milk a few cows and race the local cops?" Nigel drawled.

Noticing the teasing glint in Nigel's eyes, Andy giggled. "Come on, Nige. You make it sound like I'm from a small town in the middle of nowhere. I'm from Cincinnati. We have phones and everything."

"Hm. All evidence to the contrary," Nigel said with a pointed stare.

"Hey. I've come a long way from the girl you met nearly a year ago," Andy exclaimed.

"A year? Already?" Nigel's eyebrows shot up.

"Well only nine months, but time flies and all that," Andy clarified. She grinned at Nigel's approving nod.

"Do you have that article ready you want me to float?" Nigel asked.

"Yup." Andy opened the drawer with the sketchpad and removed the document. "Thanks Nigel. I really appreciate it."

"Well, your writing isn't horrible. After this one, I dare say you'll be able to submit articles without my help." Nigel glanced up as Miranda swept in. "Talk to you later," he said in a low voice before leaving the office. He must have sensed Miranda's black mood and decided to make a break to safety. Andy wished she could do the same. She watched him leave before flicking her eyes at the computer clock. Ten more minutes and Andy would be asked for the name. She still had no idea what to do.

Hoping for a Christmas miracle, Andy braced herself as she answered Miranda's summons exactly ten minutes later.

"The name?" Miranda said in a deceptively mild voice. She gazed at Andy as if only half-interested in the answer. Andy knew this tactic. She was at her most dangerous. With a sinking feeling, Andy knew her time was up.

Raising her chin and straightening her stance, Andy determined she would not reveal the truth and be humiliated by revealing her heart. Anyone who looked at those pictures would recognize that she harbored feelings for Miranda. And her boss was no fool. She was a sophisticated, educated woman who surrounded herself with art. She would know Andy's secret and crush her for it.

"I do not have one to give you," Andy said. She watched Miranda's face fill with fury for a brief moment, chased by bewilderment.

"Do you mean to tell me that you could deliver the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript to me but not the name of either the artist or the person who brought the gift?" Miranda asked incredulously.

"I, yes. I'm sorry, Miranda." Andy said. She studied Miranda's face, noting her disappointment. It did not shake Andy's resolve.

"I told you to have that name by three. It is three." Miranda looked confounded and a bit perplexed. Andy nodded solemnly.

"I know." Andy wanted to plead with Miranda to drop it, but she knew nothing she said would help her now. She had failed to give Miranda what she wanted. No one did that and survived.

"Get out," Miranda said grimly, her lips pursed.

"Are you, are you really firing me?" Andy asked, shocked. She had feared such an outcome, but she hadn't really believed it. "On Christmas Eve?" Andy couldn't enjoy Miranda's shocked look, as if the editor hadn't quite realized what a grinch she had become. Soon a look of indifference slammed down.

"You knew the consequences if you did not provide me with a name. You failed to finish a task." Miranda stared at Andy resolutely, mind made up.

Rage roared through Andy. "I can't believe you. This was a personal task, not one related to _Runway_. You have some fixation with an artist who wants to remain anonymous, and you've decided to punish me!" Andy slammed her pen and notepad on Miranda's desk, noting with grim satisfaction Miranda's involuntary flinch and white face. "Well, fine! Fire me for not getting your way. You've certainly done worse to others."

Without further thought, knowing she had nothing left to lose, Andy rounded the desk. "I'll leave, but first I have to do this." Andy placed one hand on Miranda's upper arm, and the other on the back of her neck, hauling the startled woman forward and brushing her lips gently against the older woman's mouth. Gasping at the sensation, Andy wondered where she had gathered the courage or the stupidity to kiss Miranda Priestly. All she knew was that she would never get the chance again. She began to tremble as she felt Miranda's lips move against hers, her hand stroke through Andy's hair, and an addictive tongue rub against hers gently. Andy could not keep herself from moaning at the glorious feeling, even as she despaired at never feeling it again.

Andy felt something in her snap—reality became sharp and slow. She lost herself in the kiss, groaning as her body shuddered with arousal. The kiss wound down to several small kisses as Miranda withdrew her tongue and merely pressed her lips to Andy's. Andy broke away and stared at her now ex-boss. Miranda stared back in shock. They both panted, neither knowing what to do. Then, Andy remembered that Miranda had just fired her. On Christmas Eve. Her face twisted as pain lanced through her. "Good bye, Miranda. Merry Christmas." Straightening up, Andy called upon any and all hidden reserves to walk away with some semblance of dignity, striding to the closet to retrieve her outerwear and stopping by her desk to grab her bag before making a rushed getaway.

Her breath evened out as Andy leaned against the back of the elevator. She felt like she had just run a marathon. But instead of feeling a sense of completeness and satisfaction for finishing the race, Andy felt unfulfilled and anxious. Those kisses had whetted her appetite. She wanted so much more. Andy gazed at the red numbers as she was transported away from _Runway_, recognizing just how much Miranda meant to her. Finally, she admitted it to herself.

"How did this happen?" Andy whispered. "How did I fall in love with her without realizing it?" She didn't know how to deal with these emotions. And what was that kiss all about? Did Miranda feel the same? Not that it mattered. Andy knew that they would never share another kiss.

Shaking her head to dislodge her jumbled thoughts, Andy stepped into the cold December winds and turned toward the subway. There was no going back. Andy had made her decision, as had Miranda. At least Andy would not have to worry about Miranda's reaction to learning that Andy was her artist. A kiss could be dismissed as a moment of passion, but drawings could not. She had made the right decision. She had. With that lie firmly in place, Andy numbed herself to her broken heart as thoroughly as the weather numbed her body.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N This part is a bit short, but I make up for its brevity in the next part.**

**Part 3**

Miranda stood in her office staring sightlessly out the window. Andrea had kissed her. Kissed her! More amazing, Miranda had kissed her back. Had fallen into the kiss, reveled in the texture of the younger woman's lips and tongue. Wanted more.

And now she was gone.

Angrily, Miranda barked out. "Emily. Coffee." She heard the tell-tale signs of her only assistant rushing away to carry out her order. Sighing, Miranda looked down at the rug. _What have I done?_ Why had she forced the issue? If Andrea had been able to ascertain the artist's name, she would have by now. She knew this. Hadn't Andrea always given her whatever she had demanded? Yet, she had not delivered this most-important piece of information, and it had frustrated Miranda to no end. She wanted to know, needed to know who had created the pictures, who saw her in that way. It galled her that this mysterious artist remained elusive.

So, she had taken her ire out on Andrea. Delivered an ultimatum to spur her into delivering the name. Only this time Andrea had failed, and Miranda had found herself cornered by her own reputation. To capitulate by not firing Andrea would have been out of character. _I had no choice._

Miranda grimaced.

Of course she had a choice. She chose. She chose to maintain her persona by firing Andrea. And to her ultimate surprise, the younger woman had not played the role Miranda had expected.

The editor touched her lips as desire swept through her once more.

Looking toward the outer office, Miranda walked to Andrea's desk. Staring down at its pristine surface, she marveled at how it seemed Andrea had never worked feverishly at this desk to fulfill all Miranda's wishes. She ran a finger along the edge of the desk, lost in thought. Noticing a drawer partly ajar, Miranda opened it and pulled out a sketchpad. Her heart sank as she flipped through the pages, viewing drawings of hands and eyes. She sucked in her breath sharply when she found a profile picture of herself, and then a fully-detailed picture of her face.

"Ah. I see you found them," Miranda heard distantly. She wondered when she had sunk into the chair, hands grasping the drawings tightly. She focused on the voice, recognizing Nigel.

"I was coming to tell you. I saw her with them earlier. Where is she?" Nigel asked as he looked around.

"I fired her for failing to give me the name of the artist," Miranda revealed tonelessly.

"Oh no." Nigel ran a hand over his bald pate. "You know why she didn't tell you, don't you?"

"Yes, even I am capable of piecing it together, Nigel," Miranda bit off.

"What will you do now?" Nigel asked softly. Miranda just shook her head. She had no idea.

* * *

Still not sure what she would say, Miranda knocked on a worn door. It swung open to reveal Andrea, her mouth nearly as round as her eyes, still in her work attire. "May I come in?" Miranda asked politely. At Andrea's mute nod, she raised an eyebrow. The brunette seemed to wake up and stepped aside. Miranda entered slowly as her eyes swept the area. Neat, clean, small. She removed her jacket, gratified to discover that Andrea was acting civilly toward her as evidenced by her taking it and hanging it on a coat rack in the corner.

"Would you like something to drink? There's a Starbucks right around the corner—"

"No." Miranda interjected. Lord knew whether she would return if given the chance to flee. "That is not necessary." Miranda moved into the living room and eyed the thread-bare couch and tired-looking, over-stuffed chair critically. She obviously lived on a budget. Miranda sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, leaning slightly on the side arm as she attempted to formulate what she wanted to say. She had spent the last hour fruitlessly staring at the drawings, not knowing what to do, how to fix this mess. The only clear thought she had was that she did not want to lose Andrea. She needed her in her life.

Andrea sat down on the far side of the couch, shoulders curved forward, hands held tightly in her lap. She looked defeated and small. Miranda did not like it. She removed the sketchpad from her bag and handed it to Andrea silently. She waited, watching the play of emotions cross the beautiful brunette's face. Shock, dismay, sadness, resignation. She stared at the pad, much as Miranda had so recently, but did not say a word.

"I found this in your desk soon after you left. Nigel told me that he saw you looking at it earlier today. You were so absorbed that you did not hear him, and he thought it best not to bring attention to it." Miranda began. She didn't think Andrea would deny she was the artist. It would be futile at this point. Particularly after the kiss.

"He saw?" Andrea said, her voice so soft Miranda strained to hear.

"Yes. He feels certain you created the framed images I received at the Christmas party." Miranda pinned Andrea with a searching look. "Did you draw those pictures, Andrea?"

After a pause, Andrea exhaled forcefully and nodded. Her eyes pleaded with Miranda, and she understood. She leaned forward to capture those parted, pouty lips. Miranda's eyes slid closed as she kissed the younger woman again and again. Andrea's moans inflamed Miranda, urged her to suck the brunette's tongue and explore her hot mouth. Pulling Andrea closer, she basked in the warmth of the younger woman's body. She wove one hand through luscious dark hair and slid her lips over flawless skin to suck on the underside of Andrea's jaw line. Miranda could easily become addicted to the lovely sounds Andrea emitted.

"Will you forgive me for acting like a grinch on Christmas Eve?" Miranda whispered, feeling Andrea's body shake.

"God, Miranda, I'll forgive you anything if you'll kiss me again," Andrea breathed. Miranda smiled against Andrea's throat. She delivered butterfly kisses down Andrea's neck before reversing direction and sucking on the younger woman's stubborn chin. Capturing Andy's lips with another kiss, Miranda swallowed Andrea's moans. She felt Andrea surrender to her demands, her body molding to Miranda's deliciously. Finally, Miranda pulled back slightly.

"I want you to understand that this is not purely the result of your dramatic departure or even the knowledge that you created those wonderful pictures. Andrea, these feelings have grown over time. I care about you." Miranda drew a path with her finger down Andrea's soft cheek. "I am sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn't have let it get that far. And now I am in this untenable position where I cannot rehire you." She sighed as she looked into darkened eyes. "I made some phone calls. You have begun to make a name for yourself with your articles, but not enough that you can become an associate editor anywhere, yet. However, the _Mirror_ will have an opening soon. One of their writers just gave notice. I am glad to provide a recommendation on your behalf."

"Thank you, Miranda," Andrea said softly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know how you'd react."

"Well, now you know," Miranda murmured. Andrea's face transformed into a bright smile that took Miranda's breath away. She felt herself pulled into a tight hug.

"Oh, Miranda," Andrea breathed. "I care about you, too. So much."

Miranda smiled into the younger woman's hair. They stayed in that embrace for several minutes before Miranda reluctantly pulled back once more. Apologetically she said, "I really have to go. The girls are home." Andrea's eyes skittered away shyly only to be drawn back when Miranda squeezed her hand. "Will you join us tonight?" Miranda asked in a quiet voice. She stared steadily at the younger woman, waiting for her answer. Tonight she and the girls would decorate the tree after dinner, one of the few family traditions she had maintained over the years.

"Of course I will, Miranda." She could see Andrea understood the significance of the invitation. With a nod she released the younger woman and stood.

"Good. I will expect you for dinner at seven. Do not be late."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

Sitting on her couch after Miranda took her leave, Andy grinned. Miranda cared about her. Desired her. Wanted to be with her. Gazing at her Charlie Brown Christmas tree sitting on a small table against the far wall, Andy admitted that she wanted to love Miranda and have that love returned. What a great Christmas gift. Sure, they had quite a bit to sort out, but Miranda had taken a great risk by showing up at Andy's door. Nor was she ignorant of how important the dinner invitation was. Normally, Miranda was extremely private and did not allow anyone to intrude upon the time she spent with her daughters. It reassured her that Miranda was serious about her feelings.

Andy chose a red, form-fitting sweater to wear to dinner. Tonight she would have Miranda's full attention, and she intended to keep it. Tailored black slacks and black pumps completed her outfit. In a shopping bag, Andy added a few wrapped presents—one for each of the Priestly females. Feeling optimistic, Andy added a change of clothes to her oversized Chanel tote bag before stepping into the brisk December air. With a bounce in her step, she reached the townhouse in record time after taking the subway to the stop nearest Miranda's home.

Before she could ring the bell, the door swung open to reveal Miranda. Andy stepped inside, spellbound by how beautiful the older woman looked. She wore a fitted ivory, button-down blouse with navy-blue embroidery designs, drawing Andy's eyes to Miranda's chest. As if she needed any further incentive to stare at her breasts. A cleared throat caused Andy to look up as she blushed. Miranda stepped forward and ran her hands up the front of Andy's coat, causing her to suck in her breath as desire roared through her. As they gazed at each other, Miranda unbuttoned the coat and slid her hands around Andy's waist. Andy stepped further into Miranda's space so that their bodies touched as she lowered her head to meet soft lips in a heated kiss. She wrapped her arms around Miranda just in time since at that moment the silver-haired vixen's tongue began stroking Andy's, making her feel dizzy with want.

"Hi," Andy breathed once they parted. Perhaps not her most articulate greeting, but what could Miranda expect after delivering such a welcome?

Miranda's eyes softened with amusement and affection as she gazed at Andy. "Hello." Andy nearly swooned when Miranda delivered a full smile. "I'm glad you are here."

"Me, too. Thank you for inviting me." Andy hesitated. "How are you?"

"Better by the moment." To Andy's immense disappointment, Miranda disengaged, stepping back to an appropriate distance. "May I take your coat?" she asked solicitously. Andy shucked it and handed it to Miranda. Looking around, Andy noticed garland, holly, and red velvet ribbons wrapped around the stairway banisters. Little white lights were woven through the decorations and winked at Andy as if to let her know they were in on the joke—the joke that Andy was way out of her league.

Andy shook off her insecurities and turned back to Miranda as she heard the closet door close. Without a word, Miranda led Andy into the sitting room where a beautiful Fraser fir was showcased in one corner. Boxes of ornaments and other decorations sat ready to be used. Andy placed her bags on the floor near the door before she looked inquiringly toward Miranda.

Miranda waved toward the tree. "We always decorate on Christmas Eve." Andy watched a shadow cross her eyes and stepped forward instinctively. Not knowing whether it would be welcome, Andy ran her hand down Miranda's arm. She was relieved that Miranda did not pull away.

"That's a wonderful tradition, Miranda. I'm sure Caroline and Cassidy love spending the time with you." Andy smiled. "You always do whatever you can to make them happy. They know that."

"Do they?" Miranda mused, her eyes far away. "I don't spend as much time with them as I'd like. I tend to get lost in my work and…" Miranda let the sentence fade off as she stared at the unadorned tree. "I have failed them so many times, Andrea. This last marriage with Stephen," Miranda shook her head, disgust evident. "I married him for the wrong reasons, and it hurt my girls. Now I must navigate through yet another divorce while I attempt to reassure them that it has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me."

"Miranda, they will understand. And even if they don't at first, they do understand that you love them and that you will always be here for them. These holiday traditions you are sharing will remain with them, and as they mature they will cherish such memories, knowing you always made sure you were here to share them." Andy sucked in a breath when she noticed tears shimmering on Miranda's eyelashes. Not able to resist, Andy pulled her close, holding her tightly. Andy kissed her forehead before letting go.

"Andrea, I do not want to make the same mistakes with you as I have with my past relationships. You have seen me at my worst; I intend to show you my best." Miranda cupped Andy's face and looked at her intently. Andy held her breath as she waited, knowing these moments would remain burned in her memory forever. "Will you decorate the tree with us?"

Andy nodded mutely as she felt her eyes burn. It was hard not to react in typical Andy fashion, but she did not think Miranda would welcome loud exclamations of love and devotion, no matter how heart-felt. Andy figured she'd have to break Miranda in slowly to such behavior. Nevertheless, Andy understood this was Miranda's way of making a statement by inviting her to participate in a family activity. Miranda leaned in, and Andy's eyes fluttered closed. She felt soft lips kiss her eyelids before pressing against her mouth reverently. When the kiss ended, Andy opened her eyes in wonder. Miranda still held her face as she stared once more at Andy.

"You have the most expressive eyes, Andrea. All I need to know is right there. You don't try to hide your feelings or shield yourself from me. And I know what a privilege that is. I've seen you with others, how you erect walls to protect yourself. I hope," Miranda said, hesitating slightly, "I hope you know that when I was harsh with you at _Runway_, it was because I foolishly believed I needed to treat you that way. I treated you as if you were merely another assistant."

"I know, Miranda. I do," Andy said quickly.

"As I got to know you, though, I found I could not treat you that way any longer." Miranda's lips twitched. "Those doe eyes and bright smiles prevented me from uttering the usual acerbic remarks." Miranda face became serious, causing Andy's heart to twinge with anxiety. "Then, after Paris, you stopped looking at me. You stopped smiling those wonderful smiles," Miranda accused.

"I'm sorry, Miranda. It's just," Andy broke their eye contact, staring at the older woman's cheek. "I began to realize my feelings for you, and I was afraid of your reaction." Fingers ghosting over her cheek brought Andy's anxious chocolate eyes back to turbulent blue ones.

"You did not withdraw because of what I did to Nigel?" Miranda asked softly.

"Not really. Your actions confused me at first, but on some level I understood. And obviously so did Nigel. I think I might have resented having to grow up, though. I couldn't look at the world the same way." Andy looked away again. This was turning into a difficult conversation. Necessary, though. Andy looked back at Miranda, surprised to find compassion shining through her eyes. "I've changed quite a bit in the last year, mostly due to you. I, I hope you'll be patient with me."

Miranda's smile placated Andy's fears. "Darling, I have no doubt that of the two of us, you will need to exercise greater patience." Sighing with relief, Andy kissed the silver-haired beauty.

She meant for it to be a short, sweet kiss, but Miranda chased her lips as she wrapped her arms around Andy, dragging her into a pool of longing so strong she groaned and clutched at Miranda's body. _Good God, this woman can kiss!_ Andy had no idea how she was supposed to behave around her children if Miranda insisted on kissing her this way. All Andy wanted to do was lay Miranda down on the floor and unwrap her like a most cherished present. "Miranda," Andy moaned into parted lips. Andy felt Miranda smile as she sucked on Andy's lower lip.

"Hmm?" Miranda murmured before entering Andy's mouth once again. Andy lost all ability to think and gave into the kiss. She welcomed Miranda's tongue, feeling sparks travel through her and take up residence in her lower belly. Andy could feel Miranda's hands exploring her lower back before slipping underneath her sweater. Andy gasped. Miranda's lips moved over her cheeks lightly before sucking on an earlobe. "This sweater flatters your form, Andrea," she said in a low voice as she stroked Andy's sides with her thumbs and nibbled on an ear. Andy moaned louder.

"Unh," Andy said. She meant to thank Miranda for the compliment, but her brain short-circuited. "You feel, you're in-incred-di-ble," Andy choked out as Miranda grazed her teeth down Andy's neck. "Ah!" Andy whimpered.

"You taste delicious," Miranda whispered in return. "I will be sure to taste more of you later. Dinner is nearly ready, however." Andy tried not to seem as disappointed as she felt. Miranda's soft chuckle let her know she hadn't succeeded. "My sweet Andrea," Miranda whispered.

"I'm not always sweet," Andy said while thinking of all the things she wanted to do to Miranda.

"So I learned earlier today," Miranda replied with a smirk. "This way," she said walking out of the room. As if choreographed, the girls entered the hall directly behind them.

"Hi, Andy," both girls greeted Andy. She shot a smile over her shoulder.

"Hi, Caroline. Hi, Cassidy. How was your day?" Andy asked as they sat down at the dining room table. Miranda nodded toward their cook, who placed a bowl of soup before each of them. Salads were already at each place setting as were shrimp cocktail appetizers. Everything looked mouth-watering. She had never seen such large shrimp.

"Not bad. Mom got home hours ago, and Cass and I played Wii. Do you play Wii?" Caroline asked while chewing on a piece of shrimp.

"Um, not really. I'm usually pretty busy, but I've heard it's awesome. Maybe you can show me some time," Andy answered as she spooned her soup. Her eyes fluttered closed as the best New England clam chowder ever made caressed her taste buds. She opened her eyes to a heated stare. "This is wonderful, Miranda. I've never tasted anything so creamy before." Realizing what she said, Andy felt her face heat up. Miranda's face transformed for merely a moment, but it was enough to deliver a promise Andy fervently hoped to experience soon.

"Sure. Oh, you have to play Super Mario with us!" Caroline exclaimed.

"No, Caro! She has to play Harry Potter with us," Cassidy said excitedly. She turned to Andy. "And I'm sorry—"

"No, Cassidy," Andy interrupted nervously. "No need to apologize for interrupting your sister. We can play both games." Andy was pretty sure their mother didn't know why Andy had climbed the stairs and happened upon her argument with Stephen. There was no sense in having the girls get in trouble now.

"That's not what I mean—" Cassidy persisted.

"I know exactly what you mean, Cassidy," Andy interrupted again. She smiled at her. "No need to apologize. As long as your mother doesn't mind, you can teach me whatever games you want." They stared at each other for a moment until Andy saw comprehension dawn. _Smart child._ Andy nodded slightly, then looked to Caroline, who grinned widely.

"That sounds great, Andy. Can't wait," Caroline said before tucking into her salad. Andy smiled in relief.

She looked at Miranda, who seemed pensive. Andy just shrugged and beamed her most innocent look. Miranda raised an eyebrow.

Soon they were served a tasty broiled halibut with a light sauce and a side of steamed vegetables. The girls peppered the meal with conversation to which Miranda and Andy contributed sparingly. Andy enjoyed listening to their prattling as she stole looks at Miranda. She seemed relaxed. Content. Until Andy caught her eye. Then, she looked…well, she wasn't sure, but the look made her mouth go dry and her body tingle with awareness.

"Girls, are you ready to decorate the tree?" Miranda asked, a sparkle in her eye. They jumped up and ran into the sitting room while Andy stared at Miranda. She watched her rise slowly, like a lioness stalking her prey, and round the cherry dining table while trailing one hand over it. "Andrea," she purred. Andy swallowed nervously. Once she reached Andy, she held out her hand.

Andy took it and allowed Miranda to pull her into waiting arms. Andy held her breath as Miranda paused. Andy gazed into darkened eyes for several moments before Miranda slowly leaned in. Their breath mingled, and Andy struggled to not close her eyes. She didn't want to break their connection. Finally, Miranda tilted her head and their lips met. It was the most sensual, gentlest kiss Andy had ever experienced. It seemed as if time stood still, and all the world waited while they slowly, oh so slowly, explored.

Breathing through their noses, their kiss continued. All thoughts were gone, replaced by sensation. Andy did not care about Miranda's daughters waiting for them in the sitting room, did not care that she was kissing a person who had fired her mere hours ago, did not care that her heart might be broken—all she cared about was this moment, this glorious moment during which she could feel Miranda's affection and warmth and passion and desire. Andy felt powerful and wanted, treasured and revered. She didn't want the kiss to end. But once it did, Andy became fascinated by the tender look in Miranda's eyes.

"Thank you," Andy whispered huskily, not able to think of any better way to express what she felt—so, so grateful. Seeing Miranda's startled look, Andy cupped the older woman's cheek. "Thank you, Miranda for…" Andy couldn't finish the sentence, suddenly embarrassed by the depth of her emotions. She dropped her hand and looked away.

Fingers lifted her chin gently. "For?" Miranda whispered.

"For caring about me. For inviting me over. For kissing me. I know this may sound silly, but I am just so grateful to spend time with you, to know you want to spend time with me." Andy felt her eyes tearing up but soldiered on bravely. "I've dreamt of this day for so long. So, thank you, Miranda. Thank you." Andy wanted to proclaim her love, pull Miranda closer and closer until she could not get away, could never get away.

Miranda seemed touched by Andy's heartfelt words. She meant it, though. She would not take this opportunity for granted.

"Don't go," Miranda murmured. "Stay with me tonight, Andrea."

The words reverberated throughout Andy's being. She knew this was fast, knew they had so many details they needed to work out, but Andy didn't care. She knew she wanted to be with Miranda. How could she resist? Why would she want to? Andy smiled widely and nodded. Miranda's resulting smile blew Andy away.

"Come," Miranda murmured as she grasped Andy's hand and led her to the sitting room. Caroline and Cassidy had turned on Christmas music and sat in front of a box, pulling out ornaments. Andy raised her eyebrows. They had enough decorations to trim ten trees. Andy glanced at Miranda, who smirked before pulling a box over to a foot stool and sitting down.

"Andy, look at this," Caroline said. Taking the invitation to heart, Andy sat next to the girls and began asking about the ornaments they unpacked. With much giggling and quarreling over the facts, they regaled her with stories throughout the evening.

Cassidy unpacked the last box containing a gorgeous angel for the top of the tree. "Let me go get the step ladder," Miranda said.

"No, Miranda," Andy said. "One of the girls can get on my shoulders and place it on top." Andy ignored the incredulous look on her face and turned to the girls. "Who wants to do it?"

"I do."

"I do."

"I should get to do it. I'm older," Caroline exclaimed.

"By four minutes! That's stupid. Besides, you're afraid of heights," Cassidy argued.

"Not with Andy. She won't let me fall," Caroline huffed.

"Girls. You'll have to take turns. One of you can sit on Andrea's shoulders this year, and the other next year," Miranda stated.

Andy blinked. And blinked again. _Next year?_ With a grin, Andy said, "That sounds reasonable. My brother and I used to take turns, too." She looked at Miranda. "How should we decide who gets to do it this year?"

"Caroline this year," Miranda said decisively as Cassidy groaned.

"That's okay, Cassidy," Andy said quickly. "You get to open the first present tomorrow." She perked up at that pronouncement. Andy snuck a glance Miranda's way, hoping she wouldn't disapprove of Andy's words. Thankfully, the older woman's face beamed. Andy lowered herself next to Caroline. "Okay, climb on my shoulders, and hold on to my head," Andy instructed. Carefully, she rose to her full height. "Cassidy, can you pass me the angel?" Miranda stood next to Andy, a warm hand burning her lower back as she moved toward the tree. "Caroline, here you go. Lean forward slowly and place it on the top." Andy released her breath in relief once the angel sat proudly at the pinnacle of the fir. Cassidy plugged it in as Andy lowered herself to the ground so Caroline could climb down. Miranda turned off the overhead lights, and they all stood staring at the twinkling tree. "It's beautiful," Andy breathed.

"Yes. Very." Hearing Miranda's words, Andy felt a glow warm her. She slid her gaze to the side, wanting to look at Miranda. She really couldn't help wanting to stare. She was so magnetic—Andy would stare at her all day if she could. To her surprise, Miranda was focused on her, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"What else did you do with your family for Christmas, Andy?" Cassidy asked.

"Oh, well, we would open one gift on Christmas Eve, and we would receive a new pair of pajamas to wear on Christmas morning," Andy said. She missed her family. They supported her career aspirations, even though they did not understand why she continued to work as an assistant instead of following her dream of becoming a journalist. Andy knew they would be excited when they learned she was having an article published in a magazine. And they would probably cheer at the news that Andy no longer worked at _Runway_.

"Well," Miranda drawled. "Perhaps next year we can adopt the nightwear tradition. In the meantime, why don't we open one present?"

Andy stared at Miranda, astonished. Nodding mutely, Andy walked toward the bag that held the presents she had brought. Handing a present to Caroline, then to Cassidy, Andy watched them anxiously. With a nod from their mother, they ripped into the paper.

"Oh, Andy! This is great!" Caroline exclaimed as she looked at the latest Fall Out Boy CD signed by all the band members.

"I got one, too!" Cassidy cried out. "Thanks, Andy!"

"They're autographed," Andy said as she waved toward the CDs. "I'm glad you like them." Turning toward Miranda, Andy handed her a gift and said quietly, "I hope you like it."

A few moments later, the room became quiet as three pairs of blue eyes stared at the opened gift. "This is stunning," Miranda said with an emotion-laden voice.

"How did you draw us both like that? No one knows the differences," Caroline asked excitedly.

"You're two different people with different personalities and, since I knew to look past the obvious similarities, I was able to notice your distinct facial features." Andy turned to Miranda, watching her run a finger down the frame as she continued to gaze at the drawing of her daughters. "I heard you wanted the person who had drawn your pictures to draw Caroline and Cassidy."

Andy had drawn the twins side by side, both laughing. Caroline had more freckles on her face that was hardly noticeable during the winter, a slight quirk to her lips that warned others she could be a bit abrasive, and a pronounced tilt of her head that reminded Andy of Miranda. Cassidy's cheekbones were a little more pronounced, her smile was freer, and she was just a shade taller.

"I love it," Miranda said softly. Andy fell into shining eyes. "Thank you, Andrea."

"You're welcome."

"But we don't have a present for you," wailed Cassidy, clearly distressed.

"Actually, we do," Miranda corrected her as she crossed to the tree. Soon she retook her seat on the sofa and handed a wrapped present to Andy. To say Andy was amazed was a vast understatement. Miranda had bought her a present. The significance of this gesture was not lost on Andy. Actually, Miranda had astounded Andy several times over the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps she should just get used to the fact that Miranda would always surprise her.

"Open it, Andy," Caroline said impatiently, drawing her from her musings. Without needing any more prompting, she removed the gold wrapping to reveal a Tablet PC. Andy stared, speechless.

"It has handwriting and voice recognition as well as the latest support for a touch-screen and a virtual keyboard. I thought you might have need for it since you are writing magazine articles now." Miranda said. She hesitated before adding, "And you will have need of it as a journalist." Her voice relayed her regret even as Andy laid a hand on the older woman's arm.

"Oh, Miranda. This is…this is incredible. I don't know how to thank you," Andy gushed, wanting to tackle the woman so desperately that she held the present tightly to stop herself.

"You are welcome, Andrea. I expect to see your name splashed across many magazines in the future, including _Runway_. You must have the right tools to support your endeavors." Miranda's clear eyes reflected such warmth that Andy shivered. "Well," Miranda said. "It's time for you girls to get ready for bed. I will come up to look in on you in a few minutes."

Groaning, the girls got up, CDs in hand, and took turns hugging Andy. "Good night, Andy. Thanks for the CD," Cassidy said.

"Yeah. It's awesome. Thanks," Caroline chimed in before they exited the room.

A silence blanketed them as Miranda and Andy smiled at each other. Miranda rose to gather the discarded wrapping paper as Andy looked out the window, noting the snow flurries and swaying tree branches. She thought of her feelings for Miranda, how they had grown and deepened over time. Even if Miranda had not fired her, even if Andy had not kissed Miranda and felt the kiss returned, even if Miranda had not shown up at Andy's door to apologize, Andy couldn't help but believe that they would have reached this point eventually. Somehow. Miranda had noticed that Andy hadn't smiled as much around her. Miranda had gotten her a present. Miranda wanted Andy to succeed as a writer. And Andy—well, Andy was in love.

"Ready?" Miranda asked as she held out a hand to Andy. She cocked her head in question as a smile flitted across her face. Her eyes, though, reflected how serious her question was. Andy took hold of the hand firmly as she rose and smiled. Yes, she was ready. Miranda translated Andy's look and gently tugged. "Good."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

Miranda took one more look at the Christmas tree before leading Andrea to her bedroom. She had hoped Andrea would stay. To that end, she had prepared the room. Fresh flowers were strategically placed on the vanity, dressers, and glass table. Candles waited to be lit. Her softest sheets stretched across the bed. Miranda felt her heart quicken at the thought of having Andrea wrapped around her, those expressive eyes filled with passion.

While staring at the drawings earlier in the day, it had not taken long for Miranda to admit to herself that she had desired to be with Andrea for a long time. Even though she hadn't allowed herself to dwell on just how often she thought of her now former assistant, her protective actions did not erase the fact that Andrea had become a large part of her world. She hadn't lied when she had revealed how her feelings for Andrea had grown over time. The younger woman elevated her, made her happier than she had any right to be. Assistants were not meant to remain in her employ for long, and Andrea had not been an exception. However, unlike the myriad of faces that passed through _Runway_, Miranda would not forget this lovely face. Nor would she allow Andrea to leave her completely. Tonight, Miranda would bind their souls together, ensuring that she would remain as integral a part of the younger woman's life as Andrea was in hers.

Facing the younger woman, she noticed that excitement and desire warred with trepidation and worry. This would not do. "If you would like to freshen up, Andrea," Miranda began as she walked toward the master bath, "here are a new tooth brush and toiletries at your disposal."

"Oh. Thank you. Yes. That's, that's a good idea," Andrea said hesitantly as she looked around. Miranda smiled softly. She really was precious.

Miranda gently turned Andrea toward her. "Darling, are you all right?" She ran a hand down Andrea's cheek, watching the younger woman's eyes flutter close.

"I am. It's just, I'm a little nervous," Andrea admitted ruefully.

"As am I," Miranda agreed. When Andrea opened her eyes in surprise, Miranda merely nodded. "I have never felt so vulnerable in my life. But I want this. I want you in my life. And I want you in my bed." She gazed at Andrea solemnly. "Do you want that, too, Andrea?"

"Yes. More than anything, Miranda. I, God, you must know that!" Andrea said as her hands flittered around wildly. "Don't you know how I feel? Can't you tell?" she beseeched.

Miranda could see Andrea loved her. Her richly expressive brown eyes revealed all. Dipping her head in agreement, Miranda answered, "I do know. I can tell. I realize I do not broadcast my feelings well, but hopefully you have realized that this is not one-sided. Let me show you, Andrea."

They both stepped forward, meeting in a full-body embrace as their lips meshed in a heated kiss. A growl rose from the back of her throat as thoughts of "mine" and "always" flashed through her mind. She held Andrea tightly as she invaded her mouth, staking claim to this woman's heart. Remembering they were in the bathroom, Miranda slowed down and gently disengaged. They stood panting, faces close together and gazes locked. Miranda smiled into passion-glazed eyes, receiving a sensual smile in return that caused her veins to sizzle with need. Quickly, Miranda stepped back and walked out of the bath area.

Miranda tried to control her breathing as she looked around the bedroom. This passion was all-consuming, like a match lighting gasoline-soaked kindling. Miranda might worry that such feelings would burn out if not for the underlying feelings of respect, tenderness, and love she harbored. She had never felt so much before. Miranda walked around lighting candles before turning off the overhead light. She turned down the bed just as Andrea rejoined her. "I'll be just a moment," Miranda murmured after delivering a chaste kiss.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Miranda stared long and hard. Was she ready? Andrea loved her. Miranda was certain. Her daughters wanted to spend time with the younger woman. And she, well, she liked who she became when with her. Would it be easy? Of course not. She was in the middle of a divorce. Andrea was at the beginning of her career. They were from different generations with different ways of viewing life. Was Andrea worth the struggle, the vulnerability, the possible heartbreak? Miranda smiled. Oh, yes.

Finishing her ablutions quickly, Miranda opted to not change out of her clothes. Andrea had no nightwear, and she really didn't want her to feel any more nervous than she was. Taking a deep breath to calm her own nerves, Miranda returned to the bedroom.

Andrea stood next to the vanity, staring at the two drawings of Miranda that bracketed the May 1986 _Runway_ issue. Miranda crossed to her. "You did a wonderful job with these drawings and the ones of the girls," she said as she gazed at the pictures.

"I'd do anything to make you smile this way, Miranda," Andy confessed. Miranda sighed as she felt a hand tangle with hers. Their eyes met through the mirror's reflection as they stood on the brink of change. Miranda could see that Andrea wanted to say more, but she didn't. It didn't matter. She knew what Andrea felt.

"We make a handsome couple," Miranda said, tilting her head toward the mirror. She had thought so when she had glanced into the bathroom mirror, too. They would be a formidable force—Miranda with her experience and power, Andrea with her vivacity and persistence. Miranda watched Andrea as a myriad of emotions crossed the brunette's face. Wonder. Hope. Determination.

"I never dared hope," Andrea said softly. "I tried to push these feelings away." She stared at the mirror once more. "I couldn't stop thinking about you, though. The drawings were a way for me to channel these emotions." Andrea turned toward her and reached out. "Let me show you, Miranda."

A ripple of desire ran through her, but instead of allowing Andrea to lead, she took control by pulling Andrea into a slow kiss. She moved gently as their tongues rubbed against each other, guiding the younger woman to the bed. Miranda was at war with herself. On the one hand, she wanted to take her time and savor every moment with Andrea. She wanted Andrea to feel special and revered. On the other hand, Miranda wanted to let loose the animalistic urges currently fighting to be released. She wanted to make Andrea unequivocally hers. She wanted to rip off Andrea's clothes and thrust fingers into her beautiful body again and again as Andrea cried out in ecstasy, driven mad with passion.

Andrea broke the kiss and stared wildly at Miranda. "Miranda if you don't take me now, I think I'll explode. Please. I need you so much. Can't you feel it?" Miranda gasped as Andrea took her hand and held it between parted legs. Feeling the heat emanating from Andrea, the older woman groaned loudly. _Well, then, possessing it is._ She could thoroughly worship every part of Andrea's extraordinary body later.

Without further thought, Miranda removed Andrea's sweater and bra to attack gloriously erect nipples. While she sucked one of the tight buds, Miranda massaged the other breast, growling as she felt hunger driving her movements. Andrea's mewls, her exclamations of "more," and "oh, Miranda, you feel so good!" urged her to pluck at one while gently nibbling at the other. Feeling Andrea's legs start to buckle, Miranda sat her on the edge of the bed as she knelt before her. She began sucking harder, Andrea's hands in her hair pulling her head closer, serving as the impetus to unhook and unzip her slacks.

"Miranda, oh! You're going to make me…I'm going to…" Andrea said breathlessly as Miranda switched breasts, sucking just as strongly as before. Miranda pulled at the loose waistline, urging Andrea to help her remove the clothing. Feeling Andrea lift herself off the bed, Miranda swiftly pulled the pants down coltish legs. Now she could smell her effect on Andrea, and it made Miranda even more frantic. She pulled the panties off quickly, and before Andrea could think to react, Miranda entered her with two fingers. Miranda's eyes nearly rolled back when she felt how wet and swollen Andrea was. _Because of me_, she thought deliriously.

Thrusting forcefully as she curled her fingers upward, Miranda looked at Andrea's face to witness her reaction as the younger woman experienced her orgasm. "Ahhh!" she gasped as she crashed backward, no longer able to remain upright. Adding a finger, Miranda lifted Andrea's backside and licked at the protruding clit, eliciting a high-pitched if surprisingly soft shriek. Looking up, she realized Andrea had covered her mouth with her arm. Grinning devilishly, Miranda continued to lick Andrea, varying her delivery with the flat of her tongue and its sharp point.

When Andrea moved her legs so they rested over Miranda's shoulders, she found she needed to concentrate to angle her thrusts while she continued sucking on the nerve center. Well, she had never been one to shy from a challenge, and Miranda was determined to make Andrea hers once more. She placed one arm across Andrea's hips to control the younger woman's wild gyrations, recognizing Andrea was close to climaxing again. The younger woman pressed a hand on top of hers, as if she needed to ground herself. If Miranda were honest with herself, she was close to climaxing just from pleasuring Andrea. Her responses were so raw and honest that they drove Miranda's desire to make her lose control over and over. As Andrea claimed her next orgasm, Miranda felt a bolt of triumph flow through her, landing in her groin. _God, I need her so much._

Climbing on the bed, Miranda took Andrea into her arms, holding her tightly. The older woman trembled, close to losing control. "Andrea," Miranda moaned, not caring how desperate she sounded. "I need you, my Darling." Andrea captured Miranda's lips before she could plead for release. Andrea's tongue thrust into Miranda's mouth, giving no quarter. The brunette reversed their positions by pushing Miranda's body to lie flat on the bed, but Miranda hardly noticed the rough treatment, caring only that now they were able to intertwine their bodies. Andrea lifted off of her scant moments later, though. "What—?" Miranda began but stopped when Andrea began to remove her clothing. Again, she showed no sophistication, no finesse. She just pulled off Miranda's clothes and threw them on the floor before plunging two fingers into Miranda, who arched off the bed as her head snapped back.

"God, Miranda, what you did to me, how you played my body. I just want to break you apart and build you back up. I want to make you scream, lose control, admit that I am the only one who can make you feel this way." Andrea kept thrusting, pushing her body against her hand for added leverage, as she whispered in Miranda's ear. "I am going to drive you crazy, Miranda. I am going to make you come so hard your eyes will cross. Come for me, Miranda. Don't make me wait any longer."

And she came. Hard. For longer than she had ever experienced before. It was exhilarating and addictive and unprecedented. Miranda wanted to feel it again. Immediately. With a roar she threw herself on top of the startled brunette and kissed her punishingly. "So, you want to make me lose control, do you? To make me scream? To drive me crazy?" Miranda chewed on an earlobe before sticking her tongue inside the ear canal. She could feel Andrea shaking under her as she moved in time with Miranda's body.

Raising her body slightly, Miranda repositioned herself between Andrea's legs before grinding her center against Andrea's wet one. With each upward thrust Andrea panted, her hands pulling Miranda's backside closer. She loved the feel of Andrea's body moving under hers. Pulling back to fix Andrea with an intense stare, Miranda felt excitement course through her at the unadulterated abandon present in Andrea's expression. She could feel her body racing toward another incredible climax and wanted Andrea to be right with her. She began to kiss Andrea, invading her mouth as completely as she had her body earlier. She tangled their tongues, using long strokes as she breathed through her nose until she had to break away for needed air.

"Miranda, Miranda, oh, oh, Miranda!" Andrea's body bowed over the bed as she came again with a primitive wail.

Miranda felt her climax roar through her, and she shouted Andrea's name into her neck. Taking deep, cleansing breaths, she began to slow her movements until finally shifting to the side. She rested her head on Andrea's shoulder while she wound an arm around the younger woman's waist. Long fingers stroked through her hair soothingly. Miranda looked up to find bright eyes latched on her. That expression threatened to stoke Miranda's passion once more, but she restrained herself, waiting for Andrea to speak before taking the woman again.

"That was, I've never experienced anything so intense before," Andrea said in awe. She smiled sweetly. "You are amazing, Miranda."

Sighing with contentment, Miranda kissed Andrea's breastbone. "I was inspired." She looked up speculatively. "Are you terribly tired, Andrea?" Miranda asked as she stroked Andrea's side suggestively.

"Not so much," Andrea croaked. Miranda chuckled, pleased by her response. She decided now was a great time to become intimately acquainted with every inch of her lover's delectable body.

* * *

Talented fingers massaging her scalp pulled Miranda out of her dreamless state. "Mmm," she hummed. Not an unpleasant way to be awakened. Gently those fingers rubbed behind her ears, eliciting a long, low moan. "Andrea. What a beautiful way to wake up," Miranda sighed. Andrea's light chuckle forced the older woman's eyes open. Sitting Indian style, naked and exquisite, Andrea continued to lean over her while massaging gently.

"How are you this morning?" Andrea asked softly.

"Fine," Miranda answered because she was and she did not feel the need to waste time on such trivialities.

"Oh. Good." Andrea proceeded to slither down Miranda's body.

Miranda groaned as the younger woman's tongue entered her slightly and began to twitch. "Oh, God!" she muttered, overcome with just how wonderful Andrea felt. Holding on to the bedding tightly as she moved her body, Miranda began to pant.

"You were right, Miranda. You taste so good. I love how you move. I could hardly wait until you woke up. I had to have you again." Andrea's words flowed over Miranda, caressing her heart as Andrea's mouth continued to propel her toward orgasm.

"Andrea, An-dre-a," Miranda moaned breathlessly. Andrea began pushing her tongue deeply inside of her as nimble fingers began to circle her clit. "Ah, ah, An-Dray-Aaah," Miranda moaned as her body spasmed deliciously. Taking deep breaths as her heartbeat began to subside, she felt Andrea move up to enfold her in strong arms. "Mmm, that was an exceptional way to begin the day." Miranda smiled at Andrea's giggle.

They remained intertwined for several minutes before Miranda sighed. "The girls will wake up soon. Let me get you something to wear." She rose from the bed, very aware of eyes watching her. She swished her hips a bit more as she made her way to the closet. Returning to the beauty sprawled in her bed, Miranda handed her a pair of maroon silk pajamas. "I believe these will fit." Of course they would.

"Thank you," Andrea said demurely, suddenly shy.

Miranda cupped the younger woman's cheek gently. "No, no. Thank you." She felt her lips curl as Andrea's face brightened. Yes, this would work out splendidly.

They fell into a light sleep, only to be awakened later by excited whispers. Miranda lay a moment with her eyes closed. Andrea held Miranda closely while Miranda's face was tucked into her neck. Breathing deeply, Miranda admitted to herself that she didn't want to move. She didn't want to explain herself to her young, inquisitive daughters, either, but she would not become a coward this late in life.

Remaining in Andrea's arms, Miranda turned her head to view the room. Her children stood at the end of the bed, giggling. "Girls," Miranda said quietly. They looked up and approached quickly. "Keep your voices low. Andrea is still asleep."

"Why is she in your bed?" Cassidy asked.

"She's keeping me warm," Miranda answered.

"Will she always keep you warm now?" Caroline asked. _Good question._ Certainly, a question she would like Andrea to answer.

A kiss on her head pulled her attention from her daughters, and she promptly fell into smiling eyes. Miranda hiked up an eyebrow in question, receiving a nod and partial hug in response. Smirking, Miranda kept her eyes trained on Andrea as she said, "Yes. That is to be her new job description: my personal blanket." Caroline and Cassidy giggled. "Although I do not wish it," Miranda said in a low voice to Andrea, "we should probably get up." Glancing at Andrea, she noticed an appealing flush on her cheeks and smirked. She couldn't think of a better gift on Christmas morning than waking in this woman's arms. Delivering a full smile, Miranda promised herself that from this day forward she would never take such a priceless gift for granted.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Walking out the front door of the _Mirror_, Andy smiled with happiness. The last six months had been the most wonderful days of her life. Sure, they'd disagreed at times on how to navigate this new dimension of their relationship, but that hadn't stopped them from working through each and every argument. After Christmas, Andy had applied at the _Mirror_. A month later she had landed the job, thanks in part to Miranda's dubious recommendation. She had told the editor-in-chief of the _Mirror _that of all the assistants she'd ever had, Andy was, by far, her biggest disappointment. And, if he didn't hire her, he was an idiot. Andy chuckled. _So Miranda._

It turned out that Stephen had started an affair before serving divorce papers on Miranda, effectively cutting off any and all claims he might have exercised on the profits she had earned through her livelihood, as dictated through the prenuptial agreement they had signed. He had agreed to admit fault, which had shaved several months off the waiting time for the divorce decree to become final. The court date for the final judgment was today.

Andy looked at her watch and wondered whether it was final, yet. They were planning on celebrating by having dinner at _One if by Land, Two if by Sea_. Miranda had wanted Andy to meet her at _Runway_ to ride home together and change before going out, but Andy had balked. They could wait a few more hours before being seen together in public. Although they weren't living together, Andy often stayed over. Miranda loved to bring home clothes for Andy, claiming no one wore a four at _Runway_, so she might as well make use of them. She also admitted that she had brought home nightwear in Andy's size the day she had discovered Andy's sketchpad. Such a pivotal day.

Miranda had not been happy when Andy had refused to meet her at work. This was an old disagreement. Andy refused to do anything that would hurt Miranda, and that included fueling the rumor mills during the divorce proceedings by being seen together. Miranda didn't care what the press said, arguing strenuously that she wanted to spend time with Andy whenever and wherever they chose without being curtailed by others' opinions. The journalist applauded Miranda's attitude, but not enough to change her mind. She would not jeopardize Miranda's reputation when she could prevent it. Or at least delay it. She knew the press might not treat their relationship kindly, had come to accept how she would lose some of her privacy. Miranda was worth it. However, any damage the press might inflict on Andy paled in comparison to how they could harm Miranda. And it was unnecessary. Soon the divorce would be final.

As she had told Miranda several times, this was a small price to pay. The way Andy figured it, she was committed to Miranda. Six months was not a long time to fly under the radar when compared to the rest of their lives. Andy had every intention of remaining with Miranda. All indications pointed toward Miranda feeling the same way.

The afternoon sunshine warmed Andy pleasantly as she strolled down 6th Avenue. Recognizing where she was, Andy glanced across the street before slowing to a stop. Miranda was on her cell as she strode toward the waiting car. She must have felt Andy's stare since she stopped at the open door and pinned Andy in place with her gaze for several moments, ignoring Andy's nod and self-conscious wave, before getting in. Andy had to chuckle. Of course she wouldn't acknowledge Andy's existence. Why would she when Andy had argued against it for so long? She couldn't be annoyed since Miranda was acting exactly as Andy had requested.

All that would change after tonight, though. Andy smiled impishly. If Miranda wasn't careful, Andy just might have to tease her throughout dinner. She knew exactly how passionate Miranda could be, and if prodded enough, her lover would be hard-pressed to maintain that disinterested façade she often utilized.

The blast of a car horn captured Andy's attention. A well-known silver Mercedes rolled to a stop by the curbside. Andy smirked as she slid in. Before she could say a word, soft lips covered hers with a possessive kiss. "Andrea," Miranda murmured as the car reentered traffic.

"Hello, Miranda," Andy gasped, feeling her body flush with desire. Miranda saw Andy's reaction and ran an elegant hand down her cheek to rest on her collarbone. "How was your day?" Andy asked, thoroughly distracted by fingers dancing around her blouse neckline. She swallowed loudly as Miranda dipped a finger toward Andy's cleavage.

"Mmm, better by the moment," she voiced throatily. This time Andy was ready for the kiss, pulling Miranda closer and opening her mouth to receive a warm tongue. They indulged for several minutes, ignoring the traffic, Roy, everything and everyone except each other.

Once they broke apart, Andy cuddled into Miranda's side, content to bask in the affection she could feel from the older woman. "I love you," Andy whispered into the silent car. She closed her eyes, glad to finally say it.

It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to tell Miranda in the past. So many times the declaration had been on the tip of her tongue. She had waited, though, wanting to be sure that Miranda was ready. And that she was ready.

In some ways, this relationship had taken Andy entirely by surprise. After their first night together Miranda had pursued her with such focus that it had tested Andy's resolve to keep their romance under wraps. Miranda used all the means at her disposal to make sure Andy knew how much Miranda cared for her. Often, Andy fantasized showing up at the hallowed halls of _Runway_ after hours and pinning the editor-in-chief against that glass desk or leather couch as she claimed her lover.

Talk about ending the workday on a high note.

Instead, Andy took great pleasure attacking Miranda in the sitting room, in the hallway, and when they finally managed to make it up the stairs, in the bedroom. Andy wasn't picky. All she cared about was making Miranda lose control while shouting her name. Feeling that body shudder and come apart under her ministrations. Watching those clear blue eyes cloud with lust and need.

Fingers lifted her chin gently. Andy fell into sapphire eyes reflecting a tenderness that took her breath away. "I love you, my dear Andrea. And soon the world will know it. Are you ready for that, my love? "Andy smiled widely and nodded. Miranda smiled back. "Good."

The End.


End file.
